Clarissa grunted as the heavy box fell forward into her arms, showering her with a fine layer of top-shelf dust. Great, she thought, feeling the first tickles of a sneeze begin up high in her nose. Shifting the heavy load, she awkwardly wiped her face on her shoulder.

"Darn Mr. Ferndale for making me get another box of these envelopes. Why can't he get one of the guys who can toss these around like a sack of feathers?" she grumbled as she backed towards the heavy door she'd left unlatched. She shifted her centre of gravity to open the door with a hip.

"I h-h-h-hate Murphy's Law!" she stammered out just before a mighty sneeze sent her flying backwards into the hallway with a loud "Achoo!"

Her eyes squeezed shut as her body instinctively braced for impact. The image of being squashed by the box flickered through her mind.

It took an interminable millisecond to realize that not only had she stopped falling, but she was being held in a pair of strong arms. She exhaled a small "Umph!"when the box, not to be forgotten, thudded into her stomach.

Looking up into a stranger's beautiful face she muttered, "So that's what they must look like."

The man chuckled. Goosebumps rose on Clarissa's arms at the deep sound. "Most people usually just say 'thanks'."

Even as he gently stood her upright, Clarissa couldn't tear her eyes away from her saviour's model-perfect face, topped by thick, wavy mahogany hair. Then he smiled at her. How was it possible to be even more gorgeous?

"So, uh, who looks like what?" he inquired.

"What?" she replied absently.

"You said 'that's what they must look like'.  What must look like that?"

Still stunned by his beauty, Clarissa didn't censor the words coming out of her mouth by actually thinking about what her response would imply. "Greek Gods. You know the statues? They look like you."

Didn't it just take all, but even his eyes twinkled. She couldn't stop herself gaping.

"Uh, are you sure you're all right?" his smile faded slightly, replaced with mild concern.

When the man's gaze dropped down her body, not checking her out as much as checking  her over for injuries, she became painfully aware of her baggy grey sweatshirt and threadbare jeans. She cocked one knee forward hoping the hem of her jeans would hide the duct tape she was using to keep the sole on the right shoe of her ancient trainers.

His fingers twitched as he stared at her long tail of light brown hair hanging forward over her shoulder. "Here, let me take that," he said and gently took the big box from her arms.

At the touch of his hands on hers, Clarissa snapped back to the present. A blush instantly crept to her cheeks when she realized she had been staring gape-mouthed. And what had she said?!

She dropped her eyes to avoid his and began saying "Sorry, I...", but the words died on her lips as she took in the tall, lean, muscled body that matched the perfect face. She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry.

He easily shifted the box to a hip and stuck out a hand, "I'm Gus."

Clarissa reached out and her heart beat faster as his big fingers closed over hers. Electricity from their clasped hands set every nerve ending to tingling. She lost herself in his hazel eyes again, not noticing the long seconds they stood in a motionless handshake.

A door down the hall slammed, making Clarissa jump and pull away. "Uh," she said and looked around, trying to remember what she was doing there.

He grinned at her and pointed at his own broad chest. "Gus," he repeated.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I'm Clarissa." She gave him a fleeting smile and a quick wave before she looked down at the floor. Looking at him was making her stomach do little somersaults.

"Where were you going with this?" Gus shifted the big box from one arm to the other as if it was indeed full of feathers. Figures.

"Oh, yeah." Clarissa sighed in relief at finding a train of thought. "The envelopes. I'm going down to Basement 1. I'm stuffing. Envelopes, that is." She blushed again.

Can I be any lamer? she chastised herself.

Gus bit his lip in what appeared to be an effort to not laugh. "Great! That's where I'm going, too. I'm just starting with your crew tonight, actually. Maybe you can show me the way?" He turned and, with an inviting smile, held a hand out towards the basement level door.

Clarissa's smile faded to annoyance as her giddiness crashed around her feet. Damn. One look at this guy and Jocelyn will have him wrapped around her skanky finger, just like all the others, she thought.

With a half-hearted shrug, she started forward. "It's this way," she muttered and dimly registered the confusion clouding Gus' face as he fell in step beside her.

Two weeks later her best friend Maxine leaned over from her spot at the tall work bench to whisper, "I heard Jocelyn is going to make a play for Gus on break. If he comes today, that is."

Clarissa glanced at Gus' empty spot then over her shoulder. Jocelyn had moved over to Billy Mueller's table and was looking up at him through a thick fringe of lashes. With practised ease, Jocelyn swept her thick mahogany hair back with one hand and leaned her curvaceous body into Billy.

The annoyance at having to work harder to make up for slackers like Jocelyn ran head to head with a stab of jealousy at how easy it was for some to use their feminine wiles. Clarissa still cringed every time she thought of what she'd dubbed her 'bumbling first encounter' with Gus.

Watching her nemesis walk her fingers up Billy's bicep, Clarissa said, "Did you know Cleopatra wasn't supposed to be a stunning beauty? She must have been good at flirting, though."

Maxine glanced back at Jocelyn and bumped Clarissa's shoulder with her own. "I've seen you doing some of your own flirting."

Clarissa rolled her eyes. "Not with anyone I actually liked though."

"You haven't even tried to talk to him again." Of course Max would know she was thinking about Gus.

Opening her mouth to reply, Clarissa had to shut it again. Maxine was right. Although Gus had worked four more shifts with them, she'd never spoken to him again.

Clarissa hoped her shrug would appear nonchalant as she turned to resume stuffing. "Who cares? Not like I have a chance at him with Jocelyn around."

"Oh, come on!" Maxine urged. "We don't want her to get him! Except for the first night when Jocelyn must have switched with old Bobby, Gus has always worked at a different table from her."

Clarissa pursed her lips. "Maybe that's just coincidence."

Maxine's black curls bounced as she shook her head. "Nope. I watched the last two shifts. He outmanoeuvred her attempts to get at the same table both times. I saw her trying to make a trade during break, but no one would."

Clarissa shifted uncomfortably at the small flame of hope that sprung up in her belly. She shrugged again. "Maybe he's just really nice to work with."

"No, more like Jocelyn is just starting to reap the rewards of her pissy behaviour. The few who will do her a favour are either her posse, who no one else likes anyway, or the guys who want into her pants – and I don't see how they'd want to help her score with Gus. Even old Bobby wouldn't trade with her again."

"Huh," Clarissa replied. After another glance back at Jocelyn, who was now twirling her hair around her finger and laughing at some comment Billy had made, she bent to her work. But inside that little lick of hope got a bit stronger. "We're already a half hour into the shift, maybe he's not coming today."

Maxine nodded and said, "Well, if he does, I want to see how this plays out. I've got money riding on it that she crashes and burns on her first attempt."

"You didn't!" Clarissa groaned.

"You bet I did!" Maxine bounced on her toes. "I have to get my kicks somewhere since I don't have a boyfriend."

Clarissa sighed and shrugged again. "It's your money to waste. I've never seen Jocelyn get shot down. Why will Gus be any different?"

Maxine dropped her voice and said, "Well, we'll get to see, won't we? Here he comes."

The door pushed open, and there he was, paused in the doorway to scan the room. Her heart trip-hammered when their eyes met and held – and continued to hold as he weaved around the tables to hers - and one of the few empty spots available.

"Hi, Maxine. Charlie." Gus nodded politely at the others. "Hi, Clarissa." Those molasses tones washed over her and sent ripples right down to her toes. He smiled directly into her eyes.

"Hi!" Clarissa squeaked, and hastily ducked her head to hide the blush she could feel rising. She grabbed an envelope and hastily stuffed a piece of paper in it. She bit back a groan when Maxine reached over and removed her pay slip from the mailer. Clarissa wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

When Maxine cleared her throat a minute later, Clarissa looked sideways at her and saw both of Maxine's carefully plucked black brows wagging up and down conspiratorially.

Clarissa peeked across the table at Gus. A small smile lifted one corner of his full luscious mouth, but his eyes – thankfully - were on his work. As she watched him deftly fold and stuff a paper, her mind filled with images of those long, supple fingers on her skin. She glanced up into his face again to find him smiling warmly at her. She squeaked as her heart leapt into her throat, then with cheeks flaming, she hastily resumed her own stuffing.

She couldn't be sure, but she thought Gus gave the faintest chuckle.

She'd risked one more peek up at Gus, and again he'd caught her eye and flashed her that devastatingly perfect smile.

The two hours and thirty five minutes until break were the longest Clarissa had ever endured.